We finally did it. We decided. We’re going to Disney World!! We booked it! The most fun was deciding how to spring the news to our kids! Step-by-step Disney for Newbies planning post here. A scavenger hunt with the final clue as the big reveal would be our tactic. Twenty clues hidden around the house with various props and off we went. The video of how it went is next, but before you watch, let me say… “Wow, that sure didn’t go the way I had imagined.“ Our nine year old was not thrilled about me taping the scavenger hunt. He told me afterwards that he felt self-conscious which is painfully evident when you see his reaction.You’d think we’d told we were going on a trip to the dry cleaners. * yawn * He said he knew I’d show the video to “the world” {Um kid, I think you’re grossly overestimating your mother’s blog reach} so he didn’t want to over-act and chose to play it cool. Oh dear, it looks like we’ve reached “that stage” where his life is now his and not his mother’s to parade around on the internet. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. Plus, I[…]

Perhaps it’s attention seeking behaviour or possibly it’s the thrill of being the centre the action. Whatever the reason, my daughter is rather dramatic. I haven’t the vaguest idea where she gets it from. *flips back hair and sighs emphatically* The first time she staged a “fake fall” we were shocked. We were spending the day at the Royal Ontario Museum as a family when Avery stumbled over a gentleman’s foot. She hit the floor with the force of a feather, but instead of getting up and moving on, she remained face down, arms and legs splayed every which way. The man was horrified and immediately went to her aid. We were concerned at first too, but when she looked over at me and grinned, I knew. She was acting. Since then our mini Meryl Streep has regaled us (and others) with many such dramatic performances. Like an Oscar worthy shopping cart accident at Chapter’s last week. Or this horrific (looking) bicycle fail at her cousin’s house last summer. Granted, she did tip over but… in slow motion. She took the time to place her cheek gently to the asphalt and even added some groaning for effect. […]

“What grade is your daughter in?“ A simple question with a slightly complicated answer. Avery is six and technically in grade one. However, we have been blessed to work with such dedicated educators who have come up with a brilliant scenario. Avery is registered for grade one with a goal for her to complete full-days in the grade one classroom by the end of the school year. For now, there are times throughout the day that even with modifications to the curriculum, Avery is left behind. This is where the creative planning and organization comes in. The team has put together a schedule that allows Avery to spend part of the day with her age appropriate peers, participating in circle time, group work, as well as independent tasks assisted by her amazing E.A.s. Then she is taken to her kindergarten room where she can join in on language and math lessons and more hands-on activities to help further develop her phonics, numeracy and fine motor skills. As a teacher, I know how much effort this detailed schedule took to put together. But the team did it without complaint and with my child’s best interests in mind.[…]

No matter how hard I try to keep them out, the little buggers always find their way in. I’m talking about germs, not my family. Though I can’t say I haven’t fantasized about locking them out in the yard, just for a few minutes. And so there’s no confusion, I changed “dirty” husband to “messy” husband. I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I married some kind of perv. He’s sweet, even though he leaves his stinky germy sports stuff all over the house. This flu season I implemented a few anti-germ rules that seem to be helping the battle—from what I can tell anyway. I don’t examine my home with one of those forensic blue lights. If I did I surely vomit on the spot. And then run the blue light over that, like a Control Group kind of thing for the sake of science. Our Anti-Germ House Rules: 1. No shoes past the front entrance hall. Do you know how many disgusting germs travel by shoe? 2. Upon entering the house, all must head to the bathroom for a thorough hand washing. 3. No school bags directly on the kitchen counter or table. Backpacks are covered in billions of microscopic[…]

I started watching this video through “teacher” eyes; interested in what makes this particular educator unique. I didn’t expect to be so incredibly moved by his experience as a parent. I wonder if his parenting a child who has a disABILITY makes him a more compassionate and intuitive teacher? I can’t see how it wouldn’t. It’s clear he has been able to incorporate his personal struggles and strengths into his teaching. He generously shares his positive attitude and can-do outlook with the world and his students are benefitting. Sometimes even the most seemingly ordinary people live the most extraordinary lives. And they are often the people who teach us the most important lessons about life. Watch this. It’s truly wonderful.

Yesterday I wrote about a schoolmate calling my child a not-so-nice name. It happens. Unless you’re one of the minority, you’ve probably been teased too. Even if you’re a rock star. I have a theory about that, which I shared on Facebook after posting the link to Sticks and Stones. First of all, I have to say how much I value my Facebook friends. The support I find there is second only to a heart-to-heart coffee chat in a girlfriend’s kitchen. My Facebook status could say: “I’ve decided to become a nudist. Also, we’re buying a trampoline.” My Facebook community wouldn’t judge. Instead they would mask their repulsion and offer supportive comments like, “I’m sure you have a sound reason for this alternative lifestyle choice. But be sure to bring a towel to sit on at the park. Those benches can be splintery. Also, you might want to consider some kind of protective eyewear while trampolining?” Good friends, sound advice. And this always seems to be the case whenever I post a comment or question about parenting. It helps to know we’re not alone and to feel justified or at least not completely off base in our parenting choices. Anyway, my theory….[…]

As the saying going, “Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words can never hurt us.” Really? That life lesson seems a little naive, if not excessively violent. Sticks are for roasting marshmallows. Stones are for skipping over a glassy lake on a hot summer day. Of course getting a stick in the eye is going to hurt and a stone to the skull will probably leave you dizzy and in need of an ice pack. Painful granted, but usually temporary. But words? They have a way of getting under your skin and festering for awhile; stinging and burning like a painful rash. I heard my kids playing upstairs when my son suddenly said to his sister, “Where did you get that from? Did somebody say that to you??” He came down to report that Avery had called him “Dumbo Ears.” She didn’t know what it meant and was obviously only repeating what she had heard. She told us somebody said it to her at school. She couldn’t name who. Avery’s ears do stick out and it’s not the first time she’s been teased about it. The thing is, she has no idea. In the face of[…]

After the tremendous success of yesterday’s post all about pooh, it’s clear we’re all craving more explicit poop talk. What? One person really liked it and the “Pooh on my hand” bit? It killed. Well I laughed anyway. I have just one more thing to add to this log. Haha… Oh the potty humour. You gotta love it. Well, you do if you have young children. Parenting is just one endless fart joke. This is our dog Roger channelling his inner Luke Perry. He’s mastered the “shmize,” don’t you think? He can really tell a story with those bulgy chihuahua eyes of his. Roger: part chihuahua, part terrier, part weenie He may look tough, but he’s actually afraid of his own shadow. And fireworks. And vacuums. And toenail clippers. And cats. Especially the cheeky cat who lives in the house behind us. I’ve witnessed this brazen kitty chasing poor Roger in circles around our yard. Totally humiliating. Yesterday I looked outside just in time to catch Roger doing his doggy business while his feline nemesis hung over the fence, squinting at him with her mocking cat eyes. How is a dog supposed to concentrate on the task[…]

Some days are so full of crap that even when viewed through rose coloured glasses, everything still has a distinctly brown tint. When we arrived at my son’s first swimming lesson, we learned it had been cancelled due to a “pool fouling.” Um, gag. When we got home, I got down and dirty in the backyard picking up the ample evidence that we own two healthy dogs. Avery came outside to “help” but was promptly sent back inside. This kind of KP duty isn’t suited for child labour. Clearly her boot hit a land mine on her way back in, as evident by the brown smear across the kitchen floor. But alas, the sun was still shining so we headed back out to soak up some more vitamin d. Avery drove her new Powerwheels jeep to the park. She managed to stay on the sidewalk half the time. The other half, she was off-roading over people’s lawns, collecting canine fecal samples for blocks. People, just because it’s winter, this does not mean you are excused from stooping and scooping! As I cleaned the tires mired in ick, Avery ran inside to take care of her own pressing business. Like[…]